Where the Boys Are
by canarian
Summary: Sam and Blaine discuss boarding school shenanigans (and we find out they might have been planning that mash-up for a while). Takes place immediately after they break into Dalton to steal back ND Nationals trophy.


Written for Mimsy because she prompted it, pointing out that people always forget Sam went to boarding school, and for firesnaps because she has a soft spot for platonic Blam.

Thanks to buckeyegrrl for her last-minute beta. You da best, grrl.

* * *

"Wow, you were awesome back there," Blaine says, tugging his cape off and folding it neatly. "How did you know they'd fall for that?"

"I never told you?" Sam asks, shrugging off his blazer and rolling it up haphazardly and shoving it in his locker. "I went to a place like Dalton. The guys there always fell for that trick. I figured your Warbler bros wouldn't be any different."

Blaine freezes, one leg still encased in spandex, and stares up at Sam.

"Wait… you went to private school?"

"Not just private," Sam says. "All boys, year-round boarding school."

"Whoa." Blaine tugs on his jeans and tosses his mask into his locker.

"Yeah," he says. "I thought you knew. I guess I forget sometimes that you weren't always at McKinley." He pauses and glances over at Blaine, who's now buttoning his polo all the way up to the top button. "Do you ever miss the uniform?"

"Sometimes," Blaine says. "It was easier in some ways — not having to decide what to wear every day; always looking pulled together — but I like being able to express my own style." He sits down on the bench and pulls out his mirror, checking that his hair is still gelled in place. "What about you?"

"Nah, the uniform was pretty lame," Sam says. "I mostly miss the late-night shenanigans in the dorms."

"Yeah, that part was pretty cool," Blaine says. "I remember this one time, we all rigged up Wes' closet door so that whenever he opened it, it played the Macarena. I thought he was going to kill us."

"Dude, that's lame," Sam says, laughing and rolling his eyes.

"Oh really?" Blaine says.

"Yeah," Sam says. "The guys at my school were way worse than that."

"Alright, then, we'll compare war stories. See who has the better pranks," Blaine says, smirking and pointing dramatically at Sam with his comb. "Spill."

"Ok, so this one time," Sam begins, leaning in closer like they're conspiring, "these guys on my hall filled up a bunch of plastic cups with water and we filled the entire hallway with them."

Blaine's brow furrows in confusion. "So?"

Sam's mouth quirks up in a devilish smile. "And then we pulled the fire alarm."

"Oh man," Blaine says, trying not to laugh. "That's just harsh."

Sam shrugs. "Ok, then," he says. "What's your best story?"

Blaine thinks for a minute, biting his lip.

"Ok, I've got one," he says, gesturing excitedly with his hands. "Someone snuck their XBox out of their room and set it up in an unused classroom. We played Halo every day during study hall."

"Impressive."

Blaine sits up straighter, squaring his shoulders in pride. "Yeah," he says. "We got through an entire semester telling teachers we were on 'official Warblers business.' "

"Not bad," Sam says, looking thoughtful, "but I can do you one better. My freshman year, this dude Ryan brought a can of sardines to school. He opened the can and hid it behind a radiator in the hallway where all the senior classrooms were."

Blaine's face scrunches up as if he's actually able to smell it, and says, "Oh gross. The smell."

"It was… pretty rank," Sam admits mimicking Blaine's facial expression. "Okay, your turn."

"I'm not sure I can top that," he says, pulling a water bottle from his bag and taking a swig. "I've only got lame stuff like when Jeff covered all of Nick's stuff in gift wrap. Took him a week to find his laptop. It was under his bed and wrapped in pink "It's a Girl!" paper."

"Oh come on, dude," Sam says. "You've got to have something _crazy_. Like the guys at my school were always pulling shit, and half the time they were naked."

Blaine nearly chokes on his water, sputtering as he tries to clear his throat.

"Ah see, I knew it!" Sam says, grinning. " 'Fess up, dude."

"Well, it was kind of a Warbler's initiation," he says. "Me, Trent, Thad and Nick, all bare-ass naked, running around Dalton singing 'Free Falling,' except David rewrote the words to..." Blaine pauses, blushing.

"Dude. If you don't finish that sentence with free ballin' we are no longer friends."

Blaine simply nods, biting back a laugh as Sam claps him on the shoulder. "Epic," he says.

"It… was," Blaine replies, thinking back on his time at Dalton fondly. He wishes it hadn't been tainted by the stunts Sebastian and Hunter had pulled. He really thought those guys were his friends, especially Nick and Trent. Blaine looks up to find Sam staring, a look of mischief on his face.

He smirks. "So... you ever sneak a peek?"

"_What?_"

"At your bros," Sam says, looking around to make sure no one's listening, even though they're the only ones in the locker room. "When they were naked?"

Blaine's eyes go wide as he stammers, "God, Sam… NO! That would be... just… no."

Sam chuckles and elbows him lightly. He leans in to whisper, "Oh come on, it's me."

"Sam, that's just… I'm not…." Blaine fidgets with his bag and starts throwing stuff into it without paying attention to what he's doing.

"You totally _did_," he says. "Don't' lie, Blaine. You checked out Trent's junk."

"Gross… _no_," he says. Trent's a nice guy, but not really Blaine's type. "It was Nick," he mutters, just loud enough that Sam leans in and says, "Say what?"

"It wasn't Trent," he says, more loudly this time, but still timid. "It was Nick. The taller one, with the dark hair. You've met him."

"Oh my god… you _dog_!"

"It was just the one time, and he's kind of…"

"Hung?"

"Oh my god," Blaine says, hiding his face in his hand. "We are _not_ having this conversation."

"Dude, it's okay. I'm not judging; I know you're gay. It's okay that you check out guys."

Blaine lowers his hand and smiles at his friend. He forgets sometimes how accepting Sam is. It's his favorite thing about him… well, apart from those lips. He watches as they form around Sam's words, and wow, he really shouldn't be checking his best friend out. Sam is accepting, but Blaine's sure even he has his limits.

"I do miss the random dance parties, though," Sam says. His wistful tone pulls Blaine from his momentary daydream.

"Y-yeah, those were always fun," Blaine agrees, clearing his throat. "We'd have silent raves at 3 a.m., and try to get the freshmen in trouble."

"Oh we were never silent," Sam says. "And we had themes. On '80s night I did my full-on Tom Cruise/Risky Business thing. Tube socks, tighty whiteys, sunglasses — the whole smash."

Blaine's jaw drops. He's trying really hard not to picture it, but cute guy; dancing in his underwear? How can he not?

"We should use that," he says, when he can finally form thoughts again.

"What?" Sam asks, closing his locker as he throws his iPod into his bag.

"Old Time Rock 'n Roll," Blaine says. "The song. New Directions should do that… in costume."

"Oooh," Sam says, his eyes lighting up. "We could do an entire Tom Cruise theme. 'Top Gun,' 'Risky Business,' 'Cocktail.' "

"Okay, stop right there," Blaine says.

"What?"

"I draw the line at Cocktail."

"It's a good movie. It's got that great Beach Boys song." Sam hums a few bars.

"I can't talk to you right now," Blaine says, grabbing his bag and heading for the exit. It's dramatic, but he is not singing "Kokomo" in Glee club for the next month. No way.

Sam catches up to Blaine and grabs his elbow to stop him. At some point Sam has put on his aviators and is looking at Blaine over the top of them, a playful gleam in his eyes.

"Oh come on, Mav," Sam says. "I feel the need…" He pauses and waggles his eyebrows.

Blaine's face starts to crack. The idea of playing "Maverick" to Sam's "Goose" is too good to pass up. Blaine high-fives Sam, who's grinning like an idiot.

"The need… for speed!" they finish in unison.

They head for the parking lot, laughing and still riding high on their secret mission.

"Okay, so 'Top Gun' and 'Risky Business,' but no 'Cocktail,' " Blaine says, ticking the titles off on his fingers as he goes. "What about 'Mission Impossible'?"

"Negative, Ghost Rider, the pattern is full," Sam replies.

"Dork," Blaine says, shoving Sam's shoulder.

Sam gives him an exaggerated wink and says, "You can be my wingman any time." He turns, and sprints away, long strides widening the distance rapidly.

Blaine stops, mouth open in a moment of stunned silence before bolting after him.

"Bullshit! You can be MINE!"


End file.
